


feelin' good

by SerpentineJ



Category: DAYS (Anime & Manga)
Genre: M/M, what is this? lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 16:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9193583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerpentineJ/pseuds/SerpentineJ
Summary: birds flyin' high, you know how i feel,sun in the sky, you know how i feel,breeze driftin' on by, you know how i feel.it's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life,and i'm feelin' good.some ooshiba character exploration, mainly.





	

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: things i can only admit in my author's notes: tbh ive been feeling a little down lately... idk why. maybe it's bc i feel stuck. 
> 
> im a little hesitant abt posting this. as always, i push my emo feelings onto fictional characters.
> 
> fic title from [the song by nina simone.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D5Y11hwjMNs) would recommend.

It's another day.

Ooshiba doesn't open his eyes.

His alarm blares vaguely at him. Everything sounds like it's underwater. He presses his face deeper into his blankets.

There are birds chirping outside.

His morning routine is the same- get up, check his face in the mirror, brush his teeth, pull on his uniform- he's not late for once, today, so he takes his time, moving slowly, like luxury time.

The wind has a bite to it today, so he pulls his green uniform jacket over his pale yellow vest. He stares at himself in the mirror.

When did life get this boring, he wonders.

~~~~~~

Ooshiba slings his bag over his shoulder.

He locks the door behind him, nods a greeting at the maid coming in- she smiles politely at him and shoulders her bag of supplies. When he comes home tonight, he knows the house will be immaculate.

He has a brief thought. What if he doesn't come home, his traitorous mind whispers. What if he stayed at the soccer pitch the entire night, laid on the cool grass, fell asleep in the bleachers...

He shakes his head, as though dislodging cobwebs from his ears. Stupid, he reminds himself. He's had a lot of stupid, weak thoughts lately.

He hums softly to himself on the walk to school.

~~~~~~

The feeling in Ooshiba's stomach won't let up.

He doesn't even eat lunch, for the second day in a row, because he feels so vaguely nauseous. The worst thing about this feeling, he thinks, is that it isn't specific- it spreads from his gut into his chest, slipping through his veins until his entire front feels tight, like he hasn't stretched his pectorals enough. It's awful. A weight that draws his shoulders inwards. 

He takes shallow breaths.

~~~~~~

There are small bursts of feeling.

The first one of the day is walking into the classroom. Ooshiba sees the other students chatting amongst themselves, waiting for class to start- he hears them but doesn't say anything, because he feels so tired it's like his head is full of cotton and the backs of his eyelids are coated in thick, sticky honey. The fact that no one looks up when he enters the room would have irritated him before, but now it makes the twisting in his stomach settle a little, and he takes his seat in the back of the room and lays his head on the desk, red hair settling on the faux-wood surface.

~~~~~~

The second one is when the teacher calls on him in the middle of class, obviously catching sight of the way his head has begun to droop. He reads a paragraph of some book he doesn't know aloud, parroting the words back, aching for the feeling of people's eyes on him.

~~~~~~

What bullshit, he thinks, because this isn't how he wants to live. He debates going for a run during lunch, to calm his nerves, but the feeling spread through his chest makes him decide to nap in an empty classroom instead, lying across four desks.

~~~~~~

"Ooshiba!" Someone shouts, and he feels the familiar bump of the ball against his pounding feet. The adrenaline rushes through him, and he shouts before racing forward with all his might.

This is something he enjoys, he remembers. 

He scores. His teammates- no bibs this time- clap him on the back. He grins hugely, pats himself on the chest, feeling warm at the sensation of so many people watching him, admiring him, envying him, and the spark in his chest flutters and flares in a way that sends fire through his gasoline veins, setting him alight.

~~~~~~

Kimishita scowls at him, but that's nothing new. 

~~~~~~

Ooshiba wonders what he wants.

It's deep thinking, he knows, deeper than he should, because he's not good for anything but the surface stuff, the fire and the electricity and all those nature metaphors, whatever, but he can't help wondering what it is. This sensation that fills him so thoroughly, like a cup of golden liquid, a bubble of glowing liquid quivering above the lip, about to pop, as though it'll burst and flood if even a drop is added to break the skin.

It has something to do with the tightening in his chest, he knows, because whenever that surge of feeling flows through him his limbs feel cold, like ice, like frost, and the joints between his chest and the fronts of his shoulders curl into themselves until it feels like they've been stretched too much.

What is it?

~~~~~~

Ooshiba goes to sleep.

~~~~~~

The feeling is still there when he wakes up.

~~~~~~

"Kiichi." A familiar voice. It pierces his awareness, makes him look around, guard immediately rising. No matter how much it drains him.

"Kimishita." He mutters. "What do you want?"

Kimishita scowls at him. The tightening in Ooshiba's chest worsens. Maybe it's an apprehension reflex. 

"Don't give me that." He glares, and it's good that he's not letting up. "You're the one who's been acting funny."

Ooshiba scoffs and looks away.

"Acting funny." He sneers. "You're the one acting weird, asshole. Or have you forgotten which classroom this is?"

Kimishita doesn't flinch. His eyes narrow as he looks Ooshiba over.

"You..." He trails off. "Don't look normal."

Ooshiba snorts.

"Yeah, neither do you." He mutters. "Asshole."

Kimishita's hand twitches, as though he wants to hit Ooshiba. Kiichi half wishes he would. His chest tightens again.

"I-" Kimishita starts to say something, a completely incomprehensible look in his eyes, but the teacher walks into the room and announces the start of class. Kimishita looks up, checks the clock, clicks his tongue when he sees that it is, indeed, time for him to return to his own class.

He leaves. The ache in Ooshiba's chest doesn't go away.

~~~~~~

[You had better come to practice,] a text from Kimishita reads when Ooshiba checks his phone at lunchtime.

He skips practice.

~~~~~~

Ooshiba wakes up.

He doesn't open his eyes.

His phone buzzes, but not with the usual alarm. After three rings, he blearily grabs it off his nightstand and, seeing it's someone calling him, drags the call button to the green section of the screen, almost dropping the phone on the side of his face as he lays back down.

"Hello." He mumbles, almost incoherent.

"Hey."

A familiar voice.

"Do you know what time it is?"

Ooshiba cracks one eye open. The sunlight streaming through his window says well past the time he was supposed to leave for school, but somehow he can't bring himself to care.

"It doesn't matter." Kimishita, on the other end, because of course it's him, sighs. "Come to the shop."

Ooshiba frowns, eyes closed.

"What." He mutters.

Kimishita huffs on the other end.

"Just get over here." He grouses. "I need to talk to you."

He hangs up before Ooshiba can say a word of protest. Ooshiba blinks his eyes open and stares at the phone in his hand.

~~~~~~

He shuffles his feet.

"Oi."

A familiar voice.

"You had better have a really good reason for making me come out here." Ooshiba grumbles, slipping back into a defensive mode, hands in his pockets. He wonders why that awful feeling curdles in his gut again. It makes him want to- well, better to not get into that, he thinks.

"Shut up." Kimishita has the same attitude, scowling at him, but the next moment he reaches up, up, upwards and presses the cool back of his hand to Ooshiba's forehead.

Ooshiba freezes.

"You're pretty warm." Kimishita mutters, shifting his fingers against Ooshiba's skin to check again, and there's something rising, rising, rising in Ooshiba's abdomen up to fill his chest- something terrible, he knows, and he backs away before Kimishita can do anything really risky.

"I-" He croaks.

Kimishita frowns at him.

"You've been acting funny." He accuses him. "These last few practices."

Ooshiba glares.

"Even aces are allowed to have off days." He spits, but he knows that's not true- not that aces aren't allowed to have off days, but that this is only an off day. Somehow, it feels more like an awakening. "I can't be perfect all the time, y'know."

Kimishita's face twists into his usual expression, not the vaguely concerned yet angry one that had graced his features before.

"Ace, my ass." He growls, rubbing the back of the hand he had touched Ooshiba with on his jacket. "If you can't even take care of yourself-"

Ooshiba struggles. This is too, too much. He's going to do something he regrets.

He turns around. His feet move.

"Oi!" Kimishita says before he can get very far, grabbing the back of his shirt with a fist. "Listen to people when they're talking to you! I skipped class today to look for you-"

Ooshiba spins back around with a snarl.

"No one asked you to!" He spits. "I hate you, Kimishita! I wish you'd leave me alone!"

Kimishita snatches his hand back like he's been burned.

Something vaguely like disgust slides over his face, twisting his features. It makes Ooshiba want to throw up, but he keeps it as together as he can, fists trembling, jaw quivering. 

The feeling has begun to leech its way into his throat.

"Fine." Kimishita hisses at him, looking angry and upset but also like he's about to start tearing up, like that time they had been first years and everyone had gone to Usui's house to study, and they had been tasked with helping cook the curry. Kimishita had diced onions like a professional chef in the beginning, but five minutes later his eyes were a red, puffy, leaking mess, even behind those glasses. Kiichi had laughed for a straight minute while Kimishita had sputtered and hurled death threats, frantically wiping his face with a washcloth.

Ooshiba feels something like revulsion- at himself, at the happy memory- rise in his stomach.

Kimishita grits his teeth- that's been a habit since they were young- and jerks his head to the side.

"Fine." He repeats, like a cat who's been kicked. "If that's how you want it to be, _Kiichi._ "

Ooshiba sneers wordlessly. He feels vile, vindictive, spiteful.

He turns back to the street and storms off, hands still in his pockets.

Kimishita doesn't watch his back. His head is bowed, shoulders tense in a line of anger.

Fat droplets of water drip onto the concrete by Kimishita's feet, but it's not raining.

~~~~~~

Ooshiba walks.

Walks.

Walks.

He walks until his feet hurt, and his breath feels harsh in his lungs, but he keeps going- it's not until he finds himself in an area that he only vaguely recognizes that he tracks to a stop. 

What is this feeling?

It's crept into his neck, so he can almost taste it in the back of his throat- spread all the way down his shoulders, along his collarbone and down into his solar plexus. It drips into his stomach, acid roiling, nausea getting to his head.

He feels sick.

He lies down on a park bench, hands folded across his abdomen.

What a wonderful life, huh, he thinks.

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: as always, on [tumblr.](http://serpentinej.tumblr.com)


End file.
